


A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

by xspike4evax



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Originals (TV), True Blood
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Not a Crossover, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspike4evax/pseuds/xspike4evax
Summary: Collection of stand alone drabbles & one shots (there are no cross over's) for the Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words challenge at nekid_spike on LJ.Not all works are explicit. The ones that are will be marked in the title with an (E) and can easily be skipped over if that is not your thing.





	1. The Potential Of Yoga (S/W)

 

 

 

Spike blinked; in one hundred and twenty-six years, he’d never walked into a room and seen something like this before. His lips parted in a grin, a gleam of delight lighting his eyes. “What ya doin’, Red?”

Willow gave a small squeak of surprise. Her heart jumped but evened out almost immediately. “Hi, Spike. It’s called yoga. It’s nice and calming after a day of slayage.”

He stared, head tilting slightly for a different view. Willow was bent at the waist, her hands placed flat to the floor, her delectable rear end on full display in a pair of shorts Spike would never have guessed she owned. All small and tight. All tight and small.

“Yoga?”

“Uh huh. Or did you mean the pose? It’s called downward-facing dog.”

Spike’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Is it now?” He wandered further into the room, loitering behind her. “Yoga’s got potential.” His hand reached out, hovering over her behind. “You know, little witches who bend over like this might find themselves in trouble.”

Her head turned a little bestowing a fleeting glance on him. “Maybe little witches want to get in trouble.”

Spike was so startled the strength seemed to leave his arm and his hand dropped out of the air onto Willow, moulding to the curve of her behind. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even move and Spike licked at his lower lip. “Got a much more interesting pass time for your little dog position than yoga. Gotta warn you though, won’t be very calmin’.”

She uncurled from her position, her pony-tail swinging against her neck. Green eyes filled with awareness met his. “That’s all right. I think I’ve had enough of being calm for one day.”

His fingers flexed against her behind, free hand smoothing along her back as the grin returned to his lips. “Being calm is over-rated anyway. Passion, now that’s where it’s at.”


	2. My Brother: My Reflection (Elijah)

 

 

Sometimes I wonder about the real reason I've stuck with Klaus for over a thousand years and fought hard for his redemption.   
  
Sometimes I wonder if it's sibling guilt. He's my brother, we believed we had the same father, and yet I know Klaus was never loved by our father as I was. He was never encouraged the way I was. I wanted that for him even when I was a child and could see he was not what our father wished him to be. Nothing Klaus did could ever be good enough for Mikael. I tried to shield him. Tried to help him. It all came to nothing were Mikael was concerned.  
  
Sometimes I wonder if it's the call of blood. We share the same blood. Klaus is my brother. We're family. Family should always stick together, especially when we can live forever. We need each other, we understand what it means to see kings rise and kingdoms fall and keep on living in spite of everything.   
  
Sometimes I wonder if it's the promise we swore to each other centuries ago: always and forever. I've never been one to break my word. As I grew up I came to understand a man's word was his bond. I came to see that women responded to a man who was honourable and decent. I've always tried to be a good man.   
  
Sometimes I stand and stare at myself in the mirror and I feel something shivering just beneath the surface; honesty. Sometimes I look into my own eyes and I know; even if I don't acknowledge it. Even if I don't say it out loud.   
  
I fight and struggle for my brother's redemption as I know the things he has done are no worse than the things I have done. I see myself reflected in Klaus' eyes, and if he can be redeemed there might be hope for me also.


	3. All I Ask (S/W)

 

 

 

"I know things are hard for you right now. I know you must feel lost and angry. I would too if some secret government had experimented on me. But staking yourself isn't the answer, Spike. We all have bad days. You must have had bad days before..." Willow paused and winced, remembering she had twice been a witness to Spike's bad days. "I'm sorry," she let out a sigh. "I'm not helping."

"You've always helped."

Light fingertips rested on his arm. "Please promise you won't try to do that again, Spike."

An unmistakable look of tenderness crossed Spike's face as he reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb touching to the corner of her mouth, stroking gently until her lips curled into a small smile. "I promise."


	4. In The Arms of The Slayer (A/B)

 

 

Angel was glad he had decided to attend Buffy's prom. It meant a lot to her, and with Buffy's warm, slender body pressed against his, swaying with his, her head resting on his shoulder, a feeling of safety, of belonging, swept over Angel. It was almost as if he were living a dream for he felt as though he were home; Buffy's love wrapping around him, holding on tight as her heart beat softly against his chest.

This dream, this moment, was something Angel knew he would always cherish as it was something he had once given up on. Something he had seen as unobtainable and dismissed as completely impossible. But that was what love did; it turned the cynic into a believer and made the fearful braver.

Buffy was the strongest woman he had ever met, she had been through so much in her short time as the Slayer and she had come out the other side. When she had cried he had been the one to hold her and dry her tears and Angel was honoured that someone like him would be so trusted, and it made him work harder to be the man he had always wanted to be. The man Buffy saw when she looked at him. For Buffy's love, so pure and strong could make a demon like him who had lost faith in everything, embrace the possibility of miracles.


	5. The Vampire At The Door (S/W) (E)

 

 

A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Willow, slouched against the headboard, music playing softly in the background, looked up. "Come in."

The bedroom door swung open and Spike sauntered into the room, black leather duster swinging around his ankles.

Willow let out a squeak and scrambled to her feet. "Spike! What are you doing here? Do you want another spell? I can do that."

Spike let the door close, swaggering across the room towards her. Willow waited, body tensed as he closed the gap between them and then she darted forward heading for the door. Spike caught her easily, throwing her back to the bed.

"I'll give you a choice," Spike offered. "Now, I'm going to kill you. No choice in that. But," he paused, bringing his face close to hers, stroking her cheek gently, voice pitched soft and low like a lover. "I could let you stay dead, or bring you back to be just like me."

"I'll scream," Willow warned.

Spike grinned, his face shifting, ridges and fangs coming forth. "Bonus."

Spike came at her and Willow batted her hands at him. He caught her wrists easily, a smile curling his lips at his power. His head lowered and a moment later he reared back with a yell, clutching at his head, staggering back a little.

"Spike?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, head cradled in his hands. "I don't understand, this kind of thing has never 'appened to me before."

Willow wiggled to her knees, touching his shoulder lightly. "Maybe you were nervous?"

Spike shook his head. "I felt all right when we started."

"Is it me? Maybe you just don't really want to bite me?"

"Course I do. Wanna bite you more than anythin'. Thought about it."

"You did? When?"

"Last year," Spike said. "You had on that fuzzy pink number with the lilac underneath." He gave her a knowing look and she blushed.

She bit her lower lip, glancing up at him through her lashes. "Then what?"

A smirk crossed his lips. "Then there'd be all kinds of fun."

Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, the leather creaking a little under her hands. "Like what?"

Spike leant in close to her, nipping at her earlobe. Before Willow could fully register the sensation she was on her back and Spike's hips flexed into hers and Willow forgot everything except Spike and the feel of his hard body pressed against hers and the intensity of his kiss.

It was a kiss that started off slow and deep, his tongue flickering against her lips, being granted entrance only to stroke against hers in such a sensual manner than Willow was helpless to do anything other than respond until the kiss ignited into something hot and intense.

The way his mouth fit to hers hard and insistent, caused an ache right down to the blood in her bones. Willow moaned, clutching at his shoulders, kissing him back, her lips coaxing, her tongue tasting with a hunger Spike instantly recognised and his hand slid beneath her top to trace the outline of her breast sending a fire streaking through her body.

As soon as her need to breathe became known, Spike broke the kiss. He caught her jaw, angling her head so he could nuzzle her neck, his tongue stroking along her skin. The muscles in her stomach clenched and Willow's thighs tightened around him. He rocked against her with a rumbling sound and Willow pushed back against him. She pushed at his coat and Spike shrugged it off, his t-shirt following the coat to the floor. When he tugged at her top Willow lifted her shoulders from the bed to allow him to remove it before he peeled her bra from her body and lowered his mouth to her peaked nipple, passing his tongue over it again and again with cat-like licks, the scratch of her nails on his shoulders and down his back alerting him that he was doing all the right things.

She felt him shiver as her fingertips traced his spine. Her hands brushed over his side and inched their way up over his ribs with slow, teasing caresses until her thumb nail could scrape over one nipple. His lips suddenly returned to hers kissing her hard and deep, his tongue tangling with hers, drifting over the roof of her mouth, retreating to brushing along her lip before delving back inside her, claiming her mouth, forcing her to surrender to him.

His hands ran over her body the pads of his thumbs stroking over her nipples, sweeping her away in a symphony of sensations. She ached, a hot hunger clawing at her as she clawed at Spike. There was a mad tussle of clothes; boots, jeans, underwear and Willow's fluffy yellow socks all tossed to the floor and Willow grabbed at him, pulling him flush against her with a soft moan.

Her warm soft flesh against his was electric and Spike gasped, eyes closing for a moment to better absorb her. His hand smoothed over her thigh and dipped between her legs. Willow cried out when he pressed two fingers inside her. Her body bathed in flames she rocked against his hand as he caused an almost unbearable ache to thrum throughout her entire body.

Spike groaned. Such a sweet girl. So hot. So wet. Just for him.

"I want to touch you, Spike." Her lips brushed against his ear as she spoke, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick at the shell of his ear.

A sound of approval rumbled in Spike's throat and Willow released her hold on his one shoulder to slip her hand between their bodies and curl her fingers around him. Spike jerked in her palm as she stroked him, slowly at first as she adjusted to the awkward angle of her hand but Willow soon managed to match the rhythm he was using against her. Spike growled against her neck, sucking the salty flesh into his mouth and Willow moaned, her head tilting back.

"Now." She gasped. "Now, Spike."

Before he had time to react she was pushing at him, rolling him over onto his back. Once again she grasped his cock, hard and full and guided him inside her hot, throbbing body. Her nails dug into his shoulders as a thousand sensations overwhelmed her.

Spike's hands curled over her hips, taking control. She may have been on top, but Spike was in command, not just coaxing her upwards but lifting her with his vampire strength until he was barely inside her. He teased her with quick, short strokes making her gasp with pleasure until he suddenly thrust upwards, burying himself inside her. She let out a sharp cry, the air around them sizzling as Willow pushed down on him as far as she could, taking him as deeply inside her as possible.

Spike's eyes closed and he let out a hiss as she began to rock, slowly at first to get used to him but when his thumb pressed down on her clit unexpectedly all hell broke loose inside her. She wanted him so badly. She needed him even more. Every inch of her wanted to possess him. She rocked down on him over and over again, heat building, skin turning dewy.

He brought her hand to his mouth, licking the salty skin of her wrist, pulling pulse between his lips. She was flying. Soaring. Thunder seemed to vibrate in every cell in her body. And she broke with a scream, her nails scoring his chest as she tightened around him. Spike cried out, his hips bucking upwards as he followed her into the shattering world only lovers knew.

Willow sank against his chest with a sigh, stroking his arms gently as she got her breathing and her body back under control.

Finally she lifted her head and brushed a kiss across his lips. "Did I do all right? The last time I had to do any acting I freaked out and ran off the stage."

"More than all right. You were perfect." Spike smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Now this is how that night should have gone."


	6. Swan Song (Eric)

 

 

Eric still remembered the moment he had discovered his family slaughtered. Their blood spilling over the floor, their flesh torn, their light gone. When the sun peaked at high noon and the world was filled with light, the memories crowded him, tore at his mind with razor sharp claws.

A thousand years on and he was no closer to finding the peace he longed for and the revenge he craved.

Now, on a rooftop in Dallas, the darkness was rushing in on him again as he stared at Godric, trying desperately to understand, to find a way to keep Godric with him, of preventing his maker from meeting the true death.

Godric didn’t appear to feel the same turmoil Eric was experiencing. Godric’s eyes were calm, his voice resigned. His mind made up. He had died a Viking warrior and Godric had rebirthed him into something even stronger.

Godric has always been at his side. He was his maker, his father, his brother, his friend; still Godric wished to leave him. Dawn was fast approaching and Eric knew his time for convincing arguments was over.

He didn’t like to think of Godric in pain, he didn’t like to think of Godric wandering the earth miserable. But he wasn’t ready to say his goodbye’s. Not now. Not ever.

Eric didn’t want to think of a world without Godric in it. And the idea of Godric dying alone was too much to bear. It was then he remembered Sookie, he could see her out of the corner of his eye hovering anxiously and uncertainly in the background. Sookie was good. She was kind. She was a light in the darkness. Sookie, Eric knew, would not allow Godric to die alone. Sookie would stay with Godric and if he or one of Godric’s other protegee’s could not be there, Eric couldn’t think of anyone better suited to watch over Godric and ensure his final moments were ones filled with peace and comfort. As much as Eric wished he could stay, he couldn’t.

The bleeds were already beginning and his heart was shattered. And he wasn’t yet ready to follow Godric into the light. He would leave him with Sookie’s warmth, knowing he had done the very best for his maker at the end.


	7. Last Sunrise (Sookie & Godric)

 

 

Sookie came forward slowly. She had told Eric she would stay with Godric until the end and she meant it. She would do it not just because Eric had been kind to her and not just because Godric had shown her kindness as well, but because she couldn’t leave Godric to die alone.

“It won’t take long,” Godric said softly. “Not at my age.”

Sookie was relived and hoped he was right. She wouldn’t want him to be in pain. She wouldn’t want to look Eric in the eye and tell him the biggest lie of all.Godricwas older than Eric and Sookie was aware of that, but he still had the face of a boy. A boy who looked younger than she was.

“Are you very afraid?” she asked.

He turned to look at her. “No. I’m full of joy.”

“But the pain.”

A gentle smile touched his lips. “I want to burn.”

Sookie took a deep shaking breath. It caught in her throat where tears clogged and then burst forth in a quiet trickle down her cheeks as she saw fine wisps of smoke rising from his body.

“I’m afraid for you.”

She had no idea what to expect when the sun finally rose. If she had to stand there and witness Godric suffering Sookie was afraid she’d turn away. She couldn’t help him, this was what he wanted. But she didn’t want to deny him either. Sookie clenched her fingers into a fist to steady herself as the tears tracked down her cheeks and dripped from her jaw with a tickling sensation.

“A human with me at the end. And human tears. Two thousand years and I can still be surprised.” Godric gave a soft chuckle. “In this I see God.”

Her tears fell harder, her chest tightening and expanding with emotions Sookie hadn’t thought to feel. She had thought she’d just stand quietly by and wait, but she was more involved than she had anticipated; death was so final. This would be the single biggest decision Godric would make in two thousand years, a decision he could not reverse; and Sookie was both frightened for him and in awe of him.

She thought suddenly of her parents killed in a flash flood. They at least had been together, unlike her gran. Sookie’s heart lurched painfully. Her gran, who had been loved by family and friends alike had been left to die alone and Sookie wished she could change that. Wished her gran had gone peacefully in her own bed surrounded by those she loved.

The past couldn’t be changed, but she could be here for Godric in the present and Sookie knew her gran would approve.


	8. The Big Bad & The Serial Drama (S & X & W)

 The soft glow of the TV screen bathed the faces of Willow and Xander as they sat curled on the sofa in Xander’s basement bedroom. Xander glanced up as Spike appeared, a bored look on his face and watched as Spike shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of the chair.

Xander scowled. He was a good guy. He fought the forces of evil and saved the world. Why did he have to have Spike living with him!

“What you watchin’?” Spike asked.

“It’s the second part of a serial drama,” Willow said. “I asked Xan to record it for me before we went on patrol.”

“The one I started watching,” Xander added.

Spike crossed to the TV stand to stand directly in front of the TV screen. Willow craned her neck to see around him, noticing the screen had gone blank and she could hear the sound of a tape spinning in the VCR.

“What are you doing?” Xander frowned at Spike’s back. “Move, Fangless.”

“Spike, I was watching that.”

“Relax, Red. Just rewindin’ it. I wanna see it from the beginning. I wanna know what the deal is with the secret brother.”

“Oh, I don’t trust him,” Willow said decisively.

A confused look crossed Xander’s face. “What secret brother?”

“The one from Australia,” Spike said.

“I just hope the dog is okay,” Willow said, biting her lower lip. “I think I’ll cry if he isn’t.”

“Dog?” Xander frowned. “There wasn’t a dog in the bit I saw.”

Spike snorted. “You saw about ten minutes of it and then fell asleep. Snorin’ an’ gruntin’ like a pig through the whole thing.”

“I do not sound like a pig when I sleep!” Xander denied hotly.

“Yeah, Whelp. You do.”

Xander held up a hand, a smile beginning to play at the corners of his mouth. “Wait a minute, when I put that program on last night you were all snorting and eye rolling guy. You said it was a load of rubbish.”

“It got good,” Spike snapped crossly.

Xander’s smile deepened into a full out grin. “You got into it. You totally got into it.” He started to laugh. “The biggest of the Big Bad’s likes watching serial dramas. And I thought Passions was bad enough.”

Willow let out a patient sigh. “Can we just watch the program now? Come on, Spike,” she scooted up to make room for him on the sofa. Spike hit the play button and took a seat next to her.

Xander continued to grin on the other side of the sofa. He was so going to store this one up for the next time Spike was mean to him.


	9. Still On His Mind (A/S)

 

 

 

Angel hadn’t always taken time out of his life to draw. As a young boy he had enjoyed the past time, sketching pictures of bold knights and fearsome dragons, but as a man he’d been too busy drinking, whoring and gambling to think about art.

When he had turned the demon had dabbled, using blood and screams and bodies to create his masterpieces.

When he had been cursed with a soul art had been the last thing on his mind.

Now Angel was in control of his life. He accepted his soul and the burden of guilt which came with it and he was able to bring art back into his life again. He understood it was okay to enjoy something. Especially something he was good at.

After a heavy night of fighting the forces of evil, Angel now liked to retire to his room in the dark, take a seat in his chair and lose himself in the enjoyment of drawing. He liked the distinct smell of a lead pencil and the freshness of wood shavings when he sharped its tip. He liked the soft scratching sound as he brought life to a piece of paper, the pencil as much a part of his hand as his fingers were.

Tonight, his pencil moved effortlessly over the paper, sketching lean lines and sharp angles. A round firm buttock and defined calf’s down to the gentle arch of a foot. Sculpted arms and a sold chest with darker shading around the nipples. A defiant chin, intense eyes, delicious cheekbones and a cocky boyish grin.

Angel didn’t need Spike in front of him. He remembered Spike so well he didn’t even have to think about it, his pencil knew how to bring his memories to life.

A soft shadow to the concave of a flat stomach and a hard, heavy cock jutting proudly from lean hips. Angel swallowed, wetting his lower lip. Had there ever been a more perfect artistic subject than Spike? He was burnt into Angel’s memory. He appeared seamlessly on pages and pages of Angel’s sketchbook. He drifted easily behind Angel’s closed eyes and invaded Angel’s dreams without invitation.

Almost two hundred years on earth and only Spike had such an effect on him.

Angel heard a soft knock on the door and Wesley appeared, silhouetted in the door way. “Angel, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Wes.”

Angel closed the sketch book, hiding Spike between its pages. It was the one and only place he could hide Spike.


	10. A Crypt Of Delight (S/W)

 

 

 

Willow's lips pursed impatiently as she waited for Spike to dig around in the sofa cushions for his lighter. She hoped it was there. She didn't hold out much hope of him finding it anywhere else in the dark, dank crypt he occupied.

"Won't be a minute, pet."

A sudden rush of emotion went through her, so fierce in its intensity that Willow's jaw dropped open, her eyes widening to their utmost. It was too soon, wasn't it? They hadn't been together that long. She hadn't ever thought to experience such violent feelings that made her head reel and the breath leave her body.

She felt it in every part of her, from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes. It rushed through her veins, burnt in her blood and filled her heart.

The scent of him lodged in her senses, her legs felt weak and her pulse rate soared. It was so overwhelming Willow pressed her hand to her chest as the beats of her heart became more erratic.

Spike looked up, her heart beat catching his attention.

She had to let it out before it consumed her completely. "Spike."

He shivered at the raw sound of his name. "What is it?" he crossed the crypt, concerned at her flushed face and the sudden sharp breaths she was taking. "Willow?" He took her arm, worried she might collapse.

Willow couldn't help herself, the words came to her so easily she had to speak them. "I love you, Spike."

He blinked, staring at her for a moment in disbelief. Then he smiled, a deep thrilling smile revealing even white teeth and his blue eyes gleamed, a look of pure delight on his face.


	11. Devil In Velvet (B/A(us) )

 

 

The dress was new, red like blood and as silky smooth as the petals of a rose. She hoped it made her look older, more sophisticated.

Buffy lay propped on one arm waiting for him. She felt him approach, she always felt Angel.

The bed dipped behind her as he joined her on the bed, sliding up to her side, the crushed black velvet of his shirt brushed softly against her arm and a shiver ran over her skin, her nipples reacting to his closeness.

A strong arm curled around the small of her back, his hand coming to rest on the bed beside her as his other arm circled her waist, long cool fingers twining with hers. Buffy held on tight as her breathing sped up.

She felt the bulk of him hovering over her, pressing closer to her, but she kept her eyes on the wall ahead. Buffy couldn't look at him, the tension inside her stretching her nerves until even the fine hairs on her arms tingled.

His nose touched to her temple, breathing her in and small gasp left Buffy's lips, her stomach tightening and her thighs clenching.

Tilting his head, his lips brushed her shoulder before he pressed his face into her neck and Buffy's eyes closed as she took a steadying breath, her fingers squeezing his. Then she heard it, the shifting of muscle and bone as Angel's face changed.

Too late she remembered Angelus.

Sharp fangs ripped into the soft skin of her neck tearing flesh and veins. Buffy could feel hot sticky blood seeping from the wound down her throat to spread across the gentle swell of her breast. Her lips parted to scream but the sound was trapped in her throat.

Her hand shot out to grasp at his shoulders, fingers bunching in his velvet shirt as her eyes grew wider and her blood rushed faster with her rapidly beating heart as the life was tugged out her body by the insistent suckling on her neck, the blood scraping against her contracting vein.

His hand touched her face, the arm at her back supporting her as he lowered her limp body back to the bed. Angelus' fangs retracted from her throat and he smoothed her cheek lightly.

Buffy's eyelashes fluttered as she gazed up at Angelus. His face shifted back to the handsome face which had captured her heart and the deep brown eyes which had caressed her face and locked with hers as he made love to her and told her he loved her.

He brushed a kiss across her forehead."Night, night, Buff."

As the life drained out of her Buffy woke with a start drenched in a cold sweat, her heart threatening to burst through her chest. Taking deep breaths, Buffy wiped at the tears on her face.

She stared at her hand, eyes glued to the gold ring she couldn't bring herself to take off since Angel had put it there.

Buffy bit her lip, the tears falling harder. "Oh, Angel."


	12. Of Oranges And Murderous Thoughts (S & X) (S/W implied)

           

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The scent of her fear permeated the dorm room until it even obliterated the scented candles. It was delicious. The most appetizing scent.

Spike closed in on her and Willow swallowed, pressing herself back against the little chest of drawers between her bed and the Slayers.

“I’ll scream,” she warned.

Spike grinned, reaching for her. “Bonus.”

He caught hold of her, hauling her against him, acutely aware of the softness of her body against the hard lines of his own. He struck swiftly, head diving for her neck as his face changed. His fangs sank into the soft skin of her throat and Willow screamed. It echoed through his blood, fuelling his need and desire.

Her arms flailed, but the way he held her kept her from pushing at him. All she was capable of doing was grasping hold of his back. It was like she was holding him, keeping him close, encouraging him to keep drinking and take her with him into the darkness.

“Spike?” Xander pushed a tape into the VCR. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you growling?”

Spike’s lips pursed as he glared across the room at Xander. He was lounging in the arm chair, cigarette in hand. It was bad enough he had to live with the boy without having him interrupting his daydreams. “Never you mind.”

It would never do to let the boy know what kind of thoughts ran through his mind concerning the little witch.

Xander frowned at him. “Do you have to smoke in here? It stinks. And you’re getting ash all over the carpet.” He went to a cupboard still muttering to himself. “Dunno how I managed to get stuck with him. I’ve had about enough. Holidays are coming up, might see if I can dump him on Willow for a bit. Only fair we all share the burden. Giles already had to put up with him.”

Not that he appreciated being referred to as a “burden” by the dumbest male on the planet. But Spike really liked the idea of sharing a house with Willow for a few days. So much potential.

“Maybe Buffy can have him,” Xander continued to talk to himself. “He’ll annoy her so much she’ll just stake him in five minutes and that’ll solve the whole problem. I’ll have to ask Willow for some of her scented candles, everything smells like cigarette smoke.”

Xander produced a can of air freshener and began to spritz the room, still grumbling and complaining.

Spike’s nose wrinkled at the overpowering citrus smell. A blast of scented water wafted over him and he scowled, sure Harris had done it on purpose so he’d smell like oranges for the rest of the day. Spike’s eyes narrowed, irritation coursing through him, first order of business for his new baby vampire, when he finally managed to get her: kill the Whelp.


	13. To Wait or Not To Wait (S/W)

 

 

 

Willow pushed open the door to Xander's basement apartment, brown bag filled with cartons of blood in her arms. "Hi, Spike. I brought you some blood."

She placed the bag on a nearby surface, scanning the room when she received no reply. It was daytime, he should be here.

Willow's lips twitched, he was there, skulking in the corner. He was still wearing Xander's old Hawaiian shirt, probably hoping to somehow go unnoticed. Unlike Xander, Spike managed to make the shirt look ridiculously sexy and her traitorous stomach flipped.

Willow began to unpack the bag. "Do you want me to heat some up for you?"

She couldn't help feeling sorry for Spike and she was still a little worried about him after his attempt to stake himself. Whether that had been a real thing or not Willow didn't know, but she didn't want to take the risk. Xander might not mind returning home to a pile of dust, but she minded. Willow had therefore decided to check up on Spike during the day under the guise of bringing him food.

She glanced at him as he crossed the room towards her and couldn't help noticing the strong line of his exposed throat where the shirt opened at the neck. "Spike?"

He looked as though he had something to say but wasn't quite sure how to say it.

"Are you okay? Has something happened? Has ...."

Spike cut her off. "Things have changed between us."

Willow took a breath.

"We've been avoiding it. Tryin' to pretend it doesn't exist, but it does. It was born last year in a burnt out basement an' it was still there when we were together in your room. It got stronger when you looked after me when I was chained in the bath an' walked in on me tryin' to end it all. We're not friends, we're not lovers but we aren't enemies either."

"No," Willow agreed softly. "We aren't enemies."

Spike's eyes closed for a moment as though he were absorbing her words. "I need you to know that what you said in your dorm room was wrong. You aren't the kind of girl I wanna be friends with. An' I didn't mean what I said to you the other night. I don't think you're a loser. Harris, yes. You, no." His arms spread wide. "I want you."

Willow caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew starting something with Spike would be madness. It could also be exactly what she needed to ease the misery and inadequacy she had been feeling since Oz had left.

Despite the voice in her head telling her that her life was about to get way more complicated, Willow wanted him too. "I guess we'll just see what happens."

Even as his face softened, the serious look remained. "So it is mutual?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "But I'm not ready..."

"I know. You're still dealin' with your break-up. I can wait."

He bent his head and kissed her softly. It was gentler and sweeter than Willow could ever have expected a kiss from Spike to be. One hand came to rest lightly at the back of her neck and the other at the base of her spine, subtly pressing her closer to him.

Willow grabbed his arms, eyes closing at the feel of his mouth against her own and the soft slide of his tongue.

When the kiss ended Spike surprised her even more by staying close and simply resting his forehead against hers.

She gazed at him, a flush colouring her cheeks, her body tingling from just one kiss. "I don't know if I can."

 

 

 

 


	14. Of Dreams & Fantasies (Jason/Eric)

 

Every time Jason saw Eric he felt awkward. He wondered if Eric could tell. If he could, Eric gave no sign of it. What Jason Stackhouse was thinking or feeling probably didn't rank as even a minor curiosity for a vampire like Eric.

But it did rank for Jason. It ranked right up there as the most uncomfortable, confusing, unsettling and crazy thing to cross his mind. And he'd seen some crazy shit since the vampires came out of the coffin and his little sister decided to take up with vampire Bill.

He'd been accused of murder.

He'd become addicted to V.

He'd helped destroy Marianne.

There was his involvement with The Fellowship of The Sun.

There were werewolves and fairies and shifters.

He'd seen Sam Merlotte naked!

He'd fallen in love with Crystal who was werepanther. He'd been chained up and raped by the crazy fuckers at Hot Shot who'd tried to turn him into a God Damn werepanther!

But through it all he'd remained Jason Stackhouse. And Jason Stackhouse liked women. Women liked Jason Stackhouse. Jason Stackhouse fucked women. He fucked them every which way. But it was women. Always women.

Only now he'd begun fantasising about Eric Northman.

It was the V. Jason knew that. He'd drank Eric's blood and it was affecting him. He knew how vampire blood worked. But it was fucking weird; dreaming about a guy.

When he wasn't paying attention, when his mind wandered, his dream snuck up on him. He could be anywhere, doing anything and then bam! He was back in that bedroom with Eric Northman and he saw himself unbuckling Eric's belt, whipping it from Eric's waist with a deft flick of his wrist.

He saw himself launching at Eric's back, tumbling the vampire on to the bed. He felt the same burning hot need lancing through his system; the need to touch, to taste, to be a part of Eric Northman.

A shiver worked its way down Jason's spine as he recalled the way his lips had pressed to the nape of Eric's neck and the way the muscles in Eric's back had flexed and twitched in response.

It all seemed so real. The feel of Eric's skin beneath his hands. The silk of Eric's hair. The hard lines of Eric's body. The strong, masculine scent of Eric.

The insane desire that had taken hold. The desperate need. The burning desire. The passionate thump of his own heart; all so real and yet all a fantasy. All in his head.

"Well?" Eric pressed. "Are you even listening to me?"

Jason blinked, gave his head a spare shake to try and clear the chaos of his mind. His heart pounded behind his ribs and he wondered if Eric had noticed, if Eric knew what he wanted, what he was aching for.

Jason cleared his throat. "What did you say?"

Eric frowned. "Focus, Stackhouse."

Jason kept his eyes averted from Eric's face, just in case Eric could tell just by looking at him exactly what he was busy focusing on.

 


	15. Rapture At Midnight (A/W) (E)

Willow's fingers traced the letter hidden between the pages of her magic book. She was supposed to be helping Giles create a demon data base. She'd had all good intentions of knuckling down and getting the data base up and running, but the letter had arrived this morning.

More to the point, _his_ letter.

Even more to the point, _Angel's_ letter.

Four simple words accompanied by a sketch. A very personal, very private sketch. A sketch which made her blush. All of Angel's sketches made her blush.

It was her secret.

More to the point, it was her big, huge, enormous secret.

It would hurt Buffy if she discovered her best friend was in contact with Angel.

It would destroy Buffy if she discovered the extent of that communication.

She glanced up at the clock, midnight was fast approaching. Willow stood up and began to gather her things. She took one last look at the letter, one of many she had hidden in her underwear drawer where Buffy would never look. The neat handwriting leapt out at her:

_Meet me at midnight_

Her hand drawn face didn't look back at her off the page. Sketch Willow's eyes were closed, her lips parted, her head thrown back, back arched and bare breasts thrust forward; a look of ecstasy on her face.

It was how Angel saw her. It was how she looked when he was inside her.

A blush coloured her cheeks and Willow shut the book quickly. "I have a headache, Giles. I think I'll go home."

Giles looked up from his notes. "You look a bit flushed. Are you running a temperature?"

"Just a little hot." Willow hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, her lap top banging into her hip. "The walk back to the dorms will help clear my head."

"Maybe you should wait for Buffy and Xander?"

"No. That's okay. I'd rather just go."

Giles nodded. 'I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Bye, Giles."

Willow closed the door behind her, taking a steadying breath. She always felt guilty lying to Giles. Like she was sneaking out of school early or something. She pushed the thoughts away and headed straight to Angel's old house on Crawford Street, her heart beginning to pick up the pace.

She only had time to walk into the house and drop her bag inside the door before he was there, coming to meet her. There was no "hello". No "how are you?" Angel simply slammed her back into the door, his mouth on hers, his hands curling around the back of her thighs and lifting her to his hips.

Willow's hands tangled in his hair, heat building in her already, the muscles between her legs fluttering expectantly. Her body knew what was to come and it was eager to begin.

Angel's tongue crashed against hers with unchecked fervour. His hands drifted along her ribs, cupping her breasts and Willow's head hit the wall as she gasped for breath. Squeezing his shoulders she arched into him a low moan escaping her lips when he ground against her.

He brought his lips down to cover hers again, his tongue dipping into her mouth giving her short, fleeting kisses that did nothing to satisfy but a lot to stoke the fire already burning inside her. Cradling him between her legs Willow could feel him pressing and pulsing against her and she rhythmically squeezed her legs around his hips urging him forward; almost begging with her body to have him inside her.

Paying particular attention to her neck Angel let his tongue stroke against her pulse and trace her throat and collar bone. Moaning, Willow pushed against him through their clothes her desperation spiralling out of control. Her fingers gripped the back of his head dragging his mouth back to hers, grasping, clinging, writhing against him.

Angel managed to get her to release the tight hold she had on him by slamming her back into the wall forcing Willow's mouth to disengage from his. She was panting, looking at him with wide eyes and he groaned.

He pulled her top up over her head prompting a mad scuffle of clothes which landed in a pile on the floor and Willow found herself back against the wall, back on Angel's hips with Angel's hand between her legs. Willow used his shoulders for leverage and moved against his fingers, riding his hand, as her heart pounded relentlessly behind her breast bone and her skin turned damp and dewy.

When she was lost in the heat of the moment, she was truly a sight to behold; one he never could capture on paper although Angel loved to try when he was alone in L.A. Hard and aching and desperate to be inside her Angel withdrew his hand from between her legs. His fingers were warm and wet and Angel stroked himself once, twice, using her body’s natural lubricant to get himself ready. Then he shifted between her legs and with one hard thrust he was inside her.

Willow cried out, her hips surging forward, her thighs tightening and flexing around his hips each time he pushed into her. She tried to pull him closer, tried to pull him deeper but Angel wouldn’t allow it, he kept his control; barely.

Every nerve in her body was stretched taunt as Angel wrenched agonizing jolts of pleasure from her. The sheer force of each thrust was intoxicating and through it all Angel's eyes held hers and Willow half thought she could see his soul reflected back at her.

Angel knew when she came to the end of her tether. He knew when she just couldn’t take it any more by the way her panting breaths almost melded into one and the way her nails on the back of his neck threatened to pierce his skin and Angel allowed his control to slip, giving way to deep, hard, driving thrusts.

A wave of euphoria swamped her and Willow rode it with guttural gasps of pleasure, her whole body seizing and her inner muscles clamping tightly around Angel as he cried out and exploded inside her.

Lifting an arm to the wall, Angel let it take his weight as his body shuddered and calmed. Willow touched his face, tracing the line of his nose, his jaw bone, his brow and Angel smiled, kissing her damp forehead.

When they were apart he missed her. When they came together like this it was explosive. She wanted him, she needed him as much as he wanted and needed her. They were drawn to each other like magnets and there wasn't a thing they could do about it.

Angel wasn't sure if she loved him yet. But he loved her. He was a part of her; Willow kept him safe. His soul entwined with hers. She hadn't meant for that to happen and Angel suspected it was just an accidental side effect of a novice witch casting such a big spell; but she had restored his soul and anchored him to her for the rest of her life.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
